


Coincidental

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Crushes, F/F, Fantasizing, No Plot/Plotless, Police Uniforms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "It turns out that blue is a ridiculously good color against the dark of Farah’s skin, and also that that shirt fits her better than any shirt has any right to fit anyone, and also apparently Tina has more of a uniform kink than she realized she did." Tina gets distracted and Farah makes a confession.





	Coincidental

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Claws](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claws/gifts).



Tina’s got a problem.

It’s not a big problem. Maybe it’s not even a problem at all. That’s always difficult to judge, with these kinds of things, after all. Maybe it’s a solution, the kind of happy accident that thus far has let her carry forward with her life more or less intact around her. But she’s not sure which it is, just at the moment, and that means that she doesn’t know how big her problem is, or how catastrophic the result of it is likely to be.

The not-problem is just this: Farah Black is really, _really_ hot.

Tina saw it before. Of course she did. It’s not as if she’s blind, after all. All it took was one glance at the other woman’s long legs and delicate nose and Tina knew she was in for a very bad time, or maybe a very good time, depending (again) on how things turn out for her. But then they broke into the old uniforms in storage, and it turns out that blue is a _ridiculously_ good color against the dark of Farah’s skin, and also that that shirt fits her better than any shirt has any right to fit anyone, and also apparently Tina has more of a uniform kink than she realized she did.

She’s been totally useless for an hour at least. Being in the same room as Farah, with her dressed like she is, is a patent impossibility if Tina wants to think anything like straight, and while she would usually be more than happy to indulge in some very not-straight thoughts this doesn’t seem exactly like the time. So after several half-started conversations that Tina found herself lost in after just a few sentences instead of a few minutes she absented herself from the room entirely and went out to the front desk to lean against the support of the counter and stare out into the bright of the daylight and think the calmest, coolest thoughts she can find for herself.

She’s not doing too bad a job of it. Tina’s always been good at distracting herself, and better at it since she spent a handful of years being thorough about said distraction; staring out into space and thinking about nothing at all, or anything at all, comes as easily to her as breathing. Maybe easier, sometimes. So Tina’s leaning on the counter, gazing out the front door of the police station while her thoughts wander unchecked over the rhythm of the universe, and unexpected coincidences, and the feel of smooth thighs under wandering fingers, and the hitch of breathing shifting the curve of breasts held back in the restraint of lacy bras, and--

“Tina?”

“Yep” and Tina’s turning, pushing away from the counter and pivoting at the same time with such guilty speed that she loses her grip and topples backwards all in the same motion. Luckily the desk chair is behind her -- luckier it’s turned towards her -- and what would be an outright collapse instead turns into a motion to sit down with such elegance that it leaves Tina nearly as breathless as the path of her wandering thoughts had achieved. “Hey Farah, I didn’t see you there.”

“That makes sense,” Farah says. “Seeing as I came from behind you.” Her gaze is uncertain, her eyes tense as she looks at Tina, but her mouth is tight on what Tina is reasonably sure is amusement, whether at her expense or otherwise. Tina doesn’t mind too much even if Farah is on the verge of laughing at her; the other woman’s laughter always breaks like the dawn over her face, startling free of her like she’s lost control of it. Tina thinks it’d be worth a lot more than a little lost dignity on her part to tug that open delight free of Farah’s chest where she keeps it so locked up.

Tina clears her throat and braces her legs wide apart, sprawling deliberately into the chair as she folds her hands in her lap. “So,” she says, ducking her chin and waggling her eyebrows in the most overdone show of absurdity she can manage. “What charges are there against me, officer?”

Farah does laugh, at that, a bright peal of sound that Tina can feel course down her spine like raw electricity. Her breath rushes out of her, a little too fast and a little too hot, but Farah is looking aside instead of at Tina, and she doesn’t seem to notice the other woman’s reaction.

“Don’t you start in on that too,” Farah says. “I have enough to deal with with Todd already.”

Tina gives over her put-upon slouch so she can lean forward towards Farah at the edge of the counter before her. “Yeah?” She braces an elbow against the counter -- casually, just to support herself. The fact that the motion bumps her wrist against the really unreasonably well-tailored press of Farah’s pants over her thigh is a coincidence. Coincidences have always turned out pretty well for Tina, after all. “What’s Todd doing?”

“Trailing after Dirk like a lost puppy, mostly,” Farah sighs. “Not that I mind. It’s nice just to have him acting like himself again, you know?” She braces her hands at the edge of the desk and slides backwards to actually sit against the surface; Tina’s eyebrows go up in spite of herself, not at the casual motion but at the source of it. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Farah deliberately unwind for _anything_. She hadn’t thought it would be possible without a round of shots and maybe a really earth-shattering orgasm. Then again maybe that’s more the trajectory of her own imagination than rational logic; it’s more than a little challenging to keep her focus when Farah is so close Tina can smell the artificial citrus of her bodywash and can see the strain of the buttons keeping the front of her shirt closed. She turns her head away towards the door to the other room, just to keep herself from staring like a lech. Which she is, she’ll admit, but she’d rather not be _quite_ that honest with Farah just yet.

“You don’t mind?” Tina asks, mostly for the sake of putting something into words so she can keep Farah talking and, hopefully, not noticing the nervous jiggle Tina’s leg is doing of its own accord against the floor. “I mean I know you said you and Todd weren’t a _thing_ , but it’s been weeks of you two together alone, right?”

“We aren’t,” Farah says. “I mean we were. We’re not now. We…” and then she presses her lips tight together and lifts her hands to fold under her breasts as she hunches forward and over her knees in the most blatant expression of discomfort Tina has ever seen from her. Her forehead creases and she clears her throat with deliberate force. “It didn’t, uh.” She shakes her head, grimacing like she’s pushing past a bad memory. “Work.”

“Didn’t work?” Tina repeats back. “How d’you mean? You’re way hot.” Farah’s forehead creases, her expression drifting closer to consideration than stress, and Tina hears her own words echo in her ears before she clears her throat and turns to look out the door to the front of the police station. The gravel of the parking lot is exactly the same as it was when she last looked at it, which is good. It gives her something to stare at while she’s thinking very quickly about something completely unrelated. “You both are. For sure.” Tina pauses, giving this statement a moment to settle before she comes back around to the real point of interest. “Is he not into you?”

Farah shrugs hard. “I don’t know,” she says, head tipped down so she can frown at her knees. “He flirts with me.” A pause. “Well. He talks to me.” Another beat. “Well. He...stares at me?”

Tina nods sagely. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

“And it seems like he’s interested,” Farah goes on. There’s a pause; then, in a rush: “We made out, once.”

“You made out,” Tina repeats back. “Once?” Farah nods; Tina rocks back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest with absolute certainty. “Yeah, there’s something missing.”

Farah looks sideways at her. Her eyes are still tight, her forehead still creased, but there’s tension pulling at the corner of her mouth, the twist of something like amusement starting to form at her lips. “You figure?”

“For sure,” Tina says. “I mean if _we_ had made out you would have to pay me to keep me away from you.” There’s a pause of ringing silence that follows this declaration, punctuated only by one of Farah’s eyebrows rising into a perfect arc over her gaze; Tina lets her mouth stay open for a moment before she closes it, with deliberation, and clears her throat sharply. “Or ask me. Of course. Boundaries are important, I’d respect yours. Or anyone’s. Whoever’s. Did you ask him to stay away?”

“I didn’t,” Farah says, but in a distracted way, like she’s not really listening to her own words. She’s still looking at Tina. Her eyebrow is still raised. “I’d have to _pay_ you?”

“Or ask,” Tina repeats. She’s regretting ever going down this line of conversation and wondering if she shouldn’t think about expanding that realm of regret to encompass everything she’s ever done, just to be safe. It seems like a fairly good idea, at the present. “I’d be into kissing a lot of people but not anyone who’s not interested.”

“A lot of people including me?”

Tina lifts her shoulders into a shrug. She’s aiming for casual and pretty sure it comes out looking frantic, but there’s only so much control she has over her body. She’s given up on stopping the nervous jitter of her leg against the floor outright. “Yeah. I mean you’re, like, easily the hottest person in the entire station. And aside from that you’re brilliant, and cool, and a badass, and also you look just _terrific_ in that uniform, that’s not fair at all.”

Tina can see Farah’s lashes flutter when she blinks. It’s ridiculously distracting. “You think I’m…” She pauses, her mouth shifting like she’s looking for words, before she shakes her head to dismiss even the attempt. “Cool?”

“Oh yeah,” Tina says. This is an easy question to answer, after all, and with Farah’s shoulders easing from some part of their tension it seems to be the right path to go down as far as comfort goes as well. “Very. Like, ultra cool. Rad? Whatever the word is, you’re it.”

Farah actually breaks into a smile, her teeth flashing white for a moment of brilliant delight. Tina thinks she can feel herself falling over the edge of _crush_ into _love_ in that exact moment. “You’re not just saying that?”

Tina shakes her head. “No way,” she says. “There’s no point anyway, right? You like dudes and I am--” as she gestures to herself with a flippant wave of her hand, “--definitely not a dude.”

Farah’s gaze slides down Tina’s body, her attention trailing the motion of the other woman’s fingers; and then she does the impossible, and turns away with an expression of such absolute focus that Tina is certain she’s blushing even if the dark of her skin lets her hide the giveaway of a flush.

Tina pauses to take stock of the situation for a moment. She hadn’t exactly intended to have this conversation right here, like this, or at all, really, but then again she always does better with less structure instead of with more, and flying blind is something of a speciality of hers. And she’s not blind: Farah is speaking clearly, in the nervous angle of her shoulders and the movement of her arms uncrossing so she can brace herself at the edge of the desk again, and Tina might not be able to entirely believe what she’s seeing but she has had a lot of experience with unbelievable things lately.

“Oh my god,” Tina says, and rocks far forward over her knees to lean in closer to where Farah is hunched at the edge of the desk. “Are you into girls?”

“I don’t know!” Farah says, speaking in a rush of near-panic. “I’ve never thought about it before!” She tips her head to the side to cast her gaze sideways towards Tina next to her; there’s something almost pleading in her eyes, desperation enough that it overrides even the impossible hope starting to form itself at the back of Tina’s mind. This is a call for help Tina is familiar with, one she has been happy to answer on previous occasions, and the fact that she’s deeply infatuated with the woman in front of her is more of a bonus than anything else.

“Alright,” Tina says, and sets her shoulders into stability. After a moment’s thought she folds her hands in front of her as well, to give himself the illusion of some kind of legitimacy. “You can think about it for weeks or months or years and be anxious until you figure it out for yourself--” Farah makes a face and shakes her head, hard, and Tina lifts her shoulder into a shrug and takes a breath to continue. “Or you can take the easy route.”

“Okay,” Farah says immediately. “Easy sounds nice. What’s that?”

“You find someone you think you might be interested in,” Tina pauses here to unfold her hands and gesture towards herself, coupling the motion with a raised eyebrow to give it just the edge of a question. Farah’s mouth twists on tension, whether embarrassment or amusement Tina’s not sure which, before she ducks her head into a short nod. Tina lets her hand fall to her lap again, feeling her heart start pounding harder in her chest in spite of herself just at that one motion. She’s in deeper in this than she had realized, but she’s not intending to back down now. “And then you see if she’ll help you experiment.”

“Experiment,” Farah repeats, and then turns her head as she huffs a breathless laugh over shock. “Right, that makes sense.”

There is a moment of complete silence. Tina is still leaning in over her knees, her hands slack in the space between her angled-open legs; she has her head turned up to watch Farah before her, her focus too tense with anticipation for her to think to pull back the fascination in the gaze she’s giving the other woman. It doesn’t make a difference in any case; Farah’s looking down at her knees, her arms locked out at her sides and her shoulders bracing tight under the crisp blue of her uniform shirt. She’s working over speech at her mouth, forming the outline of words at her lips like she’s talking to herself, or like she’s so focused on whatever is running through her head that she can’t effectively restrain it. Tina thinks it’s the most endearing thing she’s seen all day. Finally, after a span of time -- maybe a minute or two, maybe almost a quarter-hour, Tina’s never been too good at tracking details like that -- Farah’s shoulders steady, her arms tense, and she lifts her head to look at the door to the other room. There are still voices spilling from the others there, rapidfire conversation tossed back and forth so quickly Tina can’t pinpoint which speaker is which, but then again, she’s not really focusing on the others just at this moment.

“Okay,” Farah says, delivering that one word like it’s an entire mantra in itself. She lifts her head higher; Tina watches the shift of her neck, the motion in her throat as she swallows. “I can do this.” Tina thinks she probably wasn’t meant to hear that last part, but Farah’s turning before Tina can pretend she wasn’t paying attention and tipping her head to fix Tina with a frantic, tense look in her eyes.

“Will you?” Farah asks. Her voice sounds almost calm; Tina thinks she might not notice the flicker of strain on the words if she hadn’t been staring at the other woman like a lovestruck idiot which, she’ll admit, she totally is, but she has been, and she’s been watching the play of tension at Farah’s eyebrows, mouth, jaw for the last...however long they’ve been sitting here. Farah swallows; the only way to track it is in the motion shifting in her throat. “Help me, I mean?”

“Oh my god,” Tina breathes. “Are you kidding.” She forgets to swing the words up towards a question but it doesn’t matter, they weren’t meant to be answered anyway, and it’s movement she’s distracted by, as she lurches to her feet with a lot more enthusiasm than grace. Farah rocks back, her tension overridden by Tina’s abrupt approach, but Tina’s moving on the autopilot of imagination, now, she’s lost control of her hands and feet and mouth, apparently, because she’s as startled as Farah when she steps in, and reaches to clasp her hands against the other woman’s face, and leans in to press her lips solidly against Farah’s own.

There’s a moment of delay. Farah’s still tense under Tina’s hold, her hands still braced out hard at the edge of the desk. But if there’s anything Tina knows how to do, it’s be enthusiastic, and there are few things she’s more enthusiastic about than kissing beautiful women, and lately she’s been thinking about _this_ particular woman in every free moment she has to herself and some she doesn’t. So she slides her fingers into the soft weight of Farah’s hair, pressing against the pulled-back smooth of it as she turns her head to fit her mouth closer against the other’s, and when she takes a step in it’s to get closer, to press herself the nearer to where Farah is still braced at the edge of the desk. Farah’s weight shifts, her balance giving out for a moment; when she reaches up her hand clutches at Tina’s shoulder with force enough that Tina can feel it like a shock all down her spine. Farah’s lips part, shifting over the beginnings of some word, maybe, but Tina feels the motion and habit takes over, tipping her head to the side and curling her fingers to a bracing hold as she licks past the part of Farah’s lips and into the heat of her mouth. Farah tenses, her whole body goes taut under Tina’s hold, and Tina breaks away, pulling back through force of will as she gasps at an inhale.

“Shit,” she blurts. “Sorry, that was dumb, I got caught up in the moment, I’m sorry, I won’t do that again.”

“ _Ah_ ,” Farah gasps, and Tina’s never heard that sound from the other woman’s lips before, has never heard Farah sound so dark and low all at once. Tina’s words die on her lips, her vision comes back towards some measure of clarity, and it’s then, as she’s blinking down at Farah before her, that she realizes that Farah’s lashes are still heavy over her eyes, that her mouth is still parted on the drag of her breathing. She presses her lips together as quickly as Tina notices, as if embarrassed to be caught out in even a moment of unattended reaction, but Tina isn’t going to say anything about it, not when she thinks every word in her head has evaporated for that tiny huff of air at Farah’s lips.

Farah draws a deep breath through her nose and lets it out in a long shudder from her mouth. Tina holds very still, locked in place by Farah’s hand still at her shoulder; her own hands are still sliding through Farah’s hair but she knows without trying that she won’t have much luck extricating herself, and she doesn’t try. If Farah wants her to let go it’ll have to come with an out-loud rejection, or with a shove against that hold the other woman has at Tina’s shoulder, and there’s no such motion happening. In fact Farah’s hand is coming in instead, sliding up against the collar of Tina’s shirt as if tracing a path to her neck, and Tina’s heart is skipping into a frenzy she can feel like a hammer even as her breathing tries to stall itself out of keeping entirely.

“Okay,” Farah says. Her gaze is still cast down, somewhere into the space between them; her fingers tighten to press flush against Tina’s neck. Tina’s skin prickles all-over into heat from just the strength of that touch at her shoulder. “Okay.”

“Sorry,” Tina says again, apology coming from her lips without her thought at all. “I shouldn’t have pushed you into more, I just wasn’t thinking.”

Farah shakes her head. “It’s fine,” she says; and then, on a startled exhale of nearly a laugh, “ _Very_ fine.” She lifts her head fractionally; her gaze comes up from under the shadow of her lashes, the direct weight of it softened into something sultry and suggestive just by the angle of her head and the set of her lips. Tina’s breath huffs out of her before she can stop it, utterly helpless to the demand of Farah’s gaze on her. They stare at each other for a minute, Tina’s eyes wide and Farah’s shadowed into weight; and then Tina presses her lips together and swallows with deliberate intention.

“So, uh,” she says, and pulls her shoulder up into a shrug. “Do you want to keep going, or--”

“Yes,” Farah says, the answer coming with as much certainty as Tina has ever seen from her. Tina moves immediately, with all the instinct of obedience to so much certainty in someone dressed as Farah is right now, but she doesn’t really need to; Farah’s hand is coming up against the back of her head to pull Tina in towards her, and Tina’s tipping her head into overt surrender as quickly as she comes in. Farah’s lashes dip, her lips part, and when Tina’s mouth lands on hers this time it’s Farah who rocks forward to meet her.

As it turns out, Tina’s hands fit just as well against Farah as that crisp uniform does.


End file.
